


Feels Like Home.

by CountlessUntruths (KaliCephirot)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Massage, PWP, Post Season 7, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 21:43:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16272938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaliCephirot/pseuds/CountlessUntruths
Summary: The paladins discharge from the hospital is less of a 'you're mostly good to go' and it's more of a 'you're probably not going to die immediately'. There is only one place Keith would think of as of 'going home'.





	Feels Like Home.

The paladins discharge from the hospital is less of a 'you're mostly good to go' and it's more of a 'you're probably not going to die immediately' due to the need of hospital beds and the lack of space the few actual working hospitals have, and even the paladins agree with it. 

Their families are quick to want them home - or the equivalent, when most of the Earth is still destroyed - but they have places they can be. The Holts offer Coran, Allura and Romelle to stay with them, and the Garrets accept the McClain's offer to bunk with them, at least until there is a way for actual travel (one of the first good news they had: over the patchy recovered communications, Hunk's older brother in morse code telling his family that he, his wife, and his kids were okay: Hunk had cried fat, happy tears. He hadn't been the only one crying).

And Keith, his dad's house in the desert was, miraculously, still standing there, probably half buried in dust and dirt, but one look at Shiro and the quiet offer he'd made and he'd made his choice.

"I'll bunk over the Atlas," he said with a shrug (and then a wince: his shoulder had dislocated after Black's crash over the Garrison's ground, and while it was obviously back in its place now, it was still sore). "Someone from Voltron should stay in place just in case."

Later, as Shiro helped him walk, his arm around his waist and Keith's arm (the one still not sore) around Shiro's shoulder, his wolf walking ahead of them, Shiro actually snorted.

"I hope you're not seriously expecting to do any work at least for the next week," Shiro said, a dry tone to his voice that made Keith smile. "Or I'm going to have to assume that you're still concussed and I'll probably have to take you back to the hospital."

"I'm not that hurt," Keith said, and he couldn't help but grin at Shiro's unimpressed look. "What?"

"Sorry to tell you, bud, but I'm the wrong person to try to lie about how it feels after your body was forcefully drained of quintessence."

Because that had been, really, the reason why they were in the hospital in the first place: the lions had been robbed of their quintessence and, since the paladins were linked to their lions, so had they. The numerous bumps, concussions and dislocated knees-and-shoulders they had suffered hadn't been that terrible. The fact that, for a while, their bodies had been simply too drained to even _breathe_ on their own? That had been terrible.

Was it any other person in the universe, Keith would have simply shrugged (at least metaphorically) and instead insist that he was okay. He had said as much to his mom and Kolivan, promising that he only needed a little rest.

But Shiro is above all that bravado and Keith sighs, leaning heavily against him.

"I never thought I'd say that, but I would probably give my leg for a working healing pod to sleep for a week," he accepts.

"Well, we'd match, then," Shiro says and Keith shakes his head a little, smiling. Shiro squeezes his waist gently. "Sorry I can't offer that, but I hope a bed will be good enough."

Even though they didn't actually discuss where he'd stay, Keith isn't surprised when Shiro guides him towards Shiro's own quarters. The captains rooms are probably bigger than what ensigns get, with couches in one corner and a small kitchenette with a mini fridge nearby. Even with the short few weeks since the attack, it has already started to feel lived in, reminding Keith not of Shiro's mostly empty room at the castle, but of his private quarters at the Garrison.

It feels like home and strangely, ridiculously familiar to Keith, even when Keith knows that he has troubles finding himself comfortable in new places. It had taken him weeks, back in the castle, for him to stop feeling watched, and it'd been months before he could actually sleep without his knife under his pillow. Too many foster homes, too many unpleasant experiences of not belonging. 

At Shiro's quarters, he lets go of Shiro's arm and goes straight towards the bed he sees over the corner and leans down carefully, face first, groaning as he does so. The mattress and pillows are still new enough that there's not much give of his body against it, but it comforts him to be able to get Shiro's scent on the pillows. At least that's proof that Shiro he has been sleeping and not just overworking himself. 

Shiro sits down by his side, and Keith gives a happy hum when he feels Shiro's hand on his head, threading through his hair. He could, he knows, fall asleep like that easily enough, but he doesn't want to, not yet, not when it feels as if for the past few weeks he has barely even seen Shiro, the captain of the Atlas always busy, or he, still replenishing his quintessence, always on the edge of falling asleep between one blink and the other. 

"Okay there?" Shiro asks, his voice soft. Keith shifts, trying to get onto his side, but the soreness of his shoulder makes him wince again. "Easy , Keith. You didn't see the kind of bruise you had going on."

The way Shiro says it makes Keith pause for a moment. Shiro's hand is still on his hair, mostly, but when Keith started moving it shifted to the back of his neck. Keith ignores the bruising and soreness of his side and turns slowly, enough that it's against his face, Shiro's hand against the scar on his face. He leans against the touch.

"You scared me there," Shiro says softly. "We'd only just managed to get the screens back on when the explosion happened and then we saw the lions falling. I tried-- _we_ tried to get the Atlas to move to catch you but--"

"Hey," Keith interrupts him. "It's not your fault, Shiro. The robeast also attacked you. And nothing happened. Nothing permanent. We're okay. We're _all_ okay."

Miraculously, they were. They were home and they were mostly healthy and the lions and their pilots where in the mend and Shiro was _okay and alive and there._ Against all odds, things had worked mostly on their favor. 

Shiro sighs and gives a small nod, but still looks lost within the would-haves and should-haves that Keith knows he would always carry with him. And he can't change Shiro, (wouldn't, really) but no-one ever said that Shiro had to carry everything on his own, alone.

So he turns his face a little, nuzzling against the rough warmness of Shiro's hand and kisses his palm, once, before turning to look at him.

"Kiss me?"

And this new thing between them (not really new, Keith thinks, when he has been stupidly in love with Shiro since he was sixteen, and not really _new_ , with the last few weeks before they arrived to Earth when he and Shiro would talk late at night and Shiro would hold his hand or sometimes reach to touch his face and their friendship hadn't felt as new but _more_ , or one of the first times he woke up at the hospital and Shiro was there and smiled at him and kissed him so gently that Keith almost thought he was still sleeping), but this recent aspect of _them_ makes the shadows in Shiro's eyes to recede. Shiro smiles at him softly and Keith doesn't get to try and reach for Shiro before Shiro leans towards him to kiss him.

Keith makes a contented noise against Shiro's mouth, sighing against his lips, and he wraps his arms around Shiro to bring him closer to him.

\-- that is, he tries, and then he gasps in pain when his shoulder _hurts_ and Shiro pulls away from him.

"That's really getting old," Keith grits, counting slowly with the way his shoulder seems to pulse with the soreness.

Shiro chuckles at him and Keith thinks about hitting him with a pillow.

"C'mon, Keith. Take your shirt off and roll over. I'll give you a massage."

Shiro stands up from the bed, and Keith would pout except he gets to see Shiro taking off his uniform jacket, carefully setting it down over a chair, his boots following, Shiro walking bare footed towards a door that must be the bathroom, the easy casualness of Shiro in a place where he feels comfortable almost enough to leave Keith breathless. 

He kicks his shoes off, then carefully works on taking off his shirt without trying to jostle his arm too much, then leaning back down, arms underneath the pillow. It doesn't take much for Shiro to come back, and even with just those few minutes Keith is almost half asleep, making a soft noise when Shiro touches the nape of his neck. 

"Okay?" Shiro asks, barely above a whisper, and whatever noise Keith makes must be accepting enough, because he squeezes once, gently. "Tell me if it hurts too much, or if you want me to linger anywhere." 

Shiro is a solid, warm presence behind him and Keith takes a deep, slow breath, hissing a little when Shiro pours something cold on his skin (lotion, most likely), and then sighing as Shiro's thumbs dig into knots in the muscle, tensing a little when the pressure almost hurts, but Shiro is patient and he keeps at it slowly and carefully, kneading unto the muscles of his back until Keith is pretty certain that he just melted. 

He would have, most likely, fallen asleep just like that, with Shiro's hands on his body and the quiet certainty of being safe and good and home, but it's not just the deep press of the massage, but gentler, sweeter touches too, touches just for the sake of touching; Shiro leaning down to brush a kiss against the scar Keith got from the judgement of the Blades of Marmora he got, all those years ago, and then making an inquisitive noise towards a scar he got when in the space whale with his mom. 

When Shiro sits back, he makes a small sound against it, turning his head and opening his eyes, even though it feels like his eyelids weight a ton each. 

"Don't stop," he murmurs, glancing at Shiro.

"Pushy," Shiro says, and perhaps if Keith didn't have such good eyesight, the blush on Shiro's face could have gone unnoticed. Still, Shiro smiles at him. "How's this?" 

Shiro shifts again and picks up one his feet, his touch firm enough that it doesn't tickle. Keith doesn't really expect it to feel as good as it does, and he moans in surprise, his foot twitching against Shiro's touch. 

"Still okay?" Shiro asks, leaning a little so he could kiss over his ankle. While still very okay, the thought of sleep is slowly but surely being pushed from Keith's mind, even if he still feels stupidly relaxed. He makes a soft noise of 'yes', and Keith feels the way Shiro smiles against his skin. 

When Shiro is done with his other foot, he works on his calves, the hospital scrubs baggy enough that he can just push them over the crease of his knees, but there is really no way for him to do that with his thighs, and by then Keith is so hard that he can't really be bothered to be embarrassed by it.

"Shiro," he says, slowly, his mouth as if he had swallowed cotton. "Please."

"Yes," Shiro whispers, shifting again. Keith helps him a little, pushing up his hips so that Shiro can grab the waist of his scrubs and pull them down easily, leaving Keith naked and exposed for him, unable to stop himself from pushing his hips to rub against the soft cotton sheets. Shiro moans with him when he slides his hands up to knead at Keith's thighs, his hands big enough to cover half of the top.

Shiro shifts, kneeling on the bed, his knees pressing Keith's legs apart, his hands tight on the top of Keith's thighs, not quite bruising (yet, Keith fiercely hopes) but just a touch hungry, he thinks. Hopes, really, unable to stop himself from pushing his hips again, shivering at the noise Shiro makes. 

When he can't take it anymore, Keith asks, again. "Please, Shiro. More."

Shiro doesn't quite say 'yes', but his hands move,reaching over for one of his pillows, lifting Keith's hips up and pushing the pillow underneath, pushing until he's spread for him. Shiro leans down, kissing the bottom of his spine, then grazing his thigh with his teeth for a moment, his kisses wet and stop before his hands spread the cheeks of his ass, firm and gentle, and Keith gasps when his mouth is there, kissing and licking at his hole. Keith clutches at the sheets, shivering as Shiro destroys him, his tongue pressing inside of him, his hands spreading him wider. 

It takes Keith three times to remember how to speak.

"Shiro, please--" he moans, gasps. "More, please, please." 

Shiro stops and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse with need. That it's for _him_ still makes Keith feel like something out of a dream, something that if he blinks too hard might disappear. A part of him is still certain that he's going to wake up and find that he dreamed this.

"You want..." Shiro says, sounding incredulous. 

If Keith had enough air left, he'd scoff. As it is, he barely has it in him to look at him over his shoulder. "You."

Shiro shivers, but nods at him, reaching for the bottle of lotion again. Keith leans back again, spreading his legs. 

Shiro teases him, first, until Keith growls and he hears Shiro laugh, murmur a 'patience, Keith' as he just touches his hole with his fingers, until Keith is the one pushing against him, for long enough that Keith half wonders if he's going to have to open himself. 

He asks Shiro that and Shiro stops for a moment and then he actually pushes two fingers inside him and Keith moans at it, Shiro's fingers bigger than his own, filling him up, touching him deeply 

"Next time, you're going to show me," Shiro says, and the raw hunger in his voice could destroy Keith. The fact that Shiro is already thinking about a _next time_. "Move with me, Keith."

Shiro rocks his hands, so his fingers slide out and then he pushes them deep again. Keith resists the urge to touch his cock, even as it rubs against the pillow, the softness of it frustrating and not enough, but not wanting for this to stop already. 

"Shiro," Keith moans, even as he pushes against Shiro's hand. "Fuck me, please. "

Shiro moans, and his mechanic hand feels pleasantly warm against his back when Shiro caresses his skin. Shiro sounds as destroyed as Keith feels.

"If you want us to stop... if you just want this, that's fine, Keith, we can just--"

Keith doesn't have enough of a working brain left to give Shiro the 'are you kidding me' look that it deserves, and he knows that the offer is Shiro, being sweet and kind and tender and all of the things Keith loves him for, but he shivers, still rocking against his hand, and twists enough so that he can look at him.

“You have no idea how much I want you right now. Please, Shiro.”

Shiro makes an almost wounded, needy sound for him, and then he's sliding his fingers out carefully, shifting forward: Keith wraps one hand around the tech's hand wrist, while Shiro lowers himself down on top of him, big and warm and solid and so, so careful as he rocks into position, his cock rubbing against his ass, and then pushing forward and Keith forgets how to breath when Shiro's cock fills him up. 

"Fuck," Shiro moans against his ear, " _Keith._ You all right?"

Shiro's cock feels huge inside him, filling him up. He swallows, half gasping, feeling how Shiro remains still as he shifts, getting used to it. "Yeah. Yeah, Shiro. Please." 

Shiro shifts his weight a little, his cock moving inside him, and Keith tries to find back the rhythm from before, pushing against him first, then moving with him, moaning Shiro's name.

Shiro kisses his shoulder, his neck, nuzzles against his neck, moving his human hand down Keith's side and under him to cup his cock, curling his fingers around him to stroke him in time with the careful but steady way he moves, with the way he fucks into Keith slowly but surely.

"You feel wonderful, baby." Shiro whispers and Keith wonders at how he can still have a working brain, vows that the next time ( _the next time_ ) he'll make it so Shiro can't remember his own name, much less words, but now he just lets himself feel good, lets Shiro take care of him as he fills him up and holds him close. 

It feels like he's coming long before he actually does, with the steady way Shiro moves and fucks him, long enough that when he finally tips over he almost whites out, clenching tight around Shiro's cock and all over his hand, the rush of blood in his head almost deafening.

When he can focus again, Keith feels Shiro, still hard, inside him, but Shiro is merely nuzzling against his neck, kissing his shoulder, the back of his neck, holding him against him and it feels amazing but--

"It's okay, baby," Shiro says, as if he could read his mind. "I can just--"

His body still feels like melted rubber left too long under the sun, but Keith clenches around Shiro and feels him gasp, then trying to shift against him again.

"You too," he asks, and he's sensitive, but he twists enough to kiss Shiro, catching his jaw first, then his mouth. Shiro moans for him and then he moves again, rocks deep inside Keith again at the same steady pace from before, just a little longer until he tenses up and comes inside him, pressing his face tight against Keith's shoulder and Keith shivers with him. 

Keith almost falls asleep like that, so he grumbles when Shiro pulls out of him, again when Shiro leaves the bed, and a third time when Shiro comes back with a warm, wet towel to wipe him and clean him, Shiro chuckling at him, but then Shiro leans down in bed again and pulls him into his arms and Keith forgives him instantly.

Shiro's tech hand plays with his hair gently, his human hand holding his against his chest, and Keith hums contently, relaxed and happy and, in his mind, where no-one will know it, finally feeling at home.


End file.
